pearls between your teeth
by Kiyoshi Kitana
Summary: Matthew shouldn't be surprised when Alfred does something a little crazy, right? It's old hat by now, right? [AmeCan][tongue piercings]


Matthew's phone buzzes in his pocket, interrupting his already-waning concentration. He's on hour three of a parliamentary meeting surrounding the feasibility of an oil pipeline through the States and he's pretty sure his boss stopped saying anything new an hour ago. His phone vibrates in his pocket again, and again, and finally Matt gives up on trying to ignore it. Taking the device discreetly out of his suit pocket, Matthew glances down at the screen between presentation slides.

The display shows 'Missed Call: Alfred (1), New Message: Alfred (3)' and Matt can't help the small smile that comes to his lips. Al only contacts him during meetings when he's really excited about something - which equals about once a week, given that there's always something new and shiny on America's mind.

Pulling up his messages, Matt finds that the first says only, _You like? :P_

_Like what?_ Matt thinks, glancing up to see the slide on the projector screen transition. _Oh_, he realizes when he gazes down again, _that's the last one_.

He skips to the real first message this time, only to find that it's an undownloaded picture message. He prompts his phone to download, then turns his attention back to the meeting at hand, jotting down a few notes just in case anyone thinks he isn't paying attention. His penchant for invisibility doesn't seem to extend to his own people. Once he's satisfactorily warded off any suspicions, he looks back down at his phone screen and immediately he's rendered breathless, his stomach flip-flopping.

Matthew closes his eyes; takes a breath. He likes to think he's pretty used to Alfred's eccentricism, since he's known his brother-nation for nearly as long as he's known himself. Not to mention that he's been Alfred's lover for about half that. So he shouldn't be surprised when the blonde does something a little crazy, right? It's old hat by now, right?

Another peek at his phone confirmseasily, _no_. It starts off like a typical photo of Al's; blonde bangs flopping into winking blue eyes, Texas sliding down his nose, pink lips curving into a smile. Only now an equally pink tongue poked out between those lips, adorned by a small white, pearlescent star piercing.

It's unexpectedly erotic; so much so that Matt's cock is twitching, embarrassingly half-hard in his pants already. He hastily looks away from his phone, sweeping his eyes around the conference room. Good, no one is looking his way. No one noticed his mouth part, his breath hitch. A mix of apprehension and arousal settles in belly as he backtracks, opens Alfred's second text.

Another picture message. Matthew uses the wait to look busy, distracting himself to combat the heat he can feel spreading across his nose. The presenter at the podium changes, so Matt flips a page in his notepad and waits a few minutes before checking his phone again. He bites the inside of his lower lip to keep a neutral face, but Al's second picture isn't simply a picture; instead it's a silent, ten-second video of his newly pierced tongue swirling around a sickeningly bright red, white, and blue popsicle. America's entire mouth is painted purple, a melding of the red and blue, the white star and silver barbell it's attached to standing in stark contrast.

Matthew manages to swallow down the groan that bubbles up in his throat but there's no way he can hide the flush that's come up courtesy of popping the fastest boner ever. Damn that cheeky American. He stuffs his phone back into his pocket, shifting surreptitiously to relieve the pressure on his groin. At this point, the best Matt can do is pretend to be paying attention; he'd only had a tenuous hold on his focus to begin with and now it's gone, completely shot through.

This simply won't do.

Taking a risk, Matthew excuses himself from the meeting as quietly as he can, his notepad strategically placed in front of his crotch. As soon as he's clear of the meeting room, he whips out his phone. The screen's stuck on a still of Al's purple, outstretched tongue; the urge to sink his cock past those lips is abrupt and fierce.

_Calm down, _he tells himself, backing out of the video. Sucking in a breath, Matthew leans against the cool wall behind him. It takes a few moments for his composure to return; when it does, he adjusts his glasses and pulls up Al's last text message, replying,

_that was completely uncalled for_.

Alfred's responding text - _what?_ - comes in surprisingly quickly. Was he waiting by his phone? Anxious, waiting for the Canadian to respond? Biting his lip to keep his grin pinned down because he knew he'd done something risque?

Probably. It's a cute thought; Matt likes it.

_you know what i'm talking about_, he shoots back. Matthew's smiling, but no one would know from his messages. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other and briefly contemplates returning to the meeting room. The meeting must still be going strong, as no one else has left the room. On the other hand, that also means that no one's deigned to come retrieve him from the empty hallway.

In the end, the buzz of Matt's phone makes his decision for him. It isn't hard for him to admit that Alfred is infinitely more interesting right now than oil pipelines. He brings up his inbox again.

_no i dont! tell me!_

So that's the kind of game he wants to play. Matt rolls a few different responses around his mind, thinking of the best way to tease the blonde back; halfway through typing out his message, an intern appears to request his presence - _Je m'excuse de cette interruption, monsieur_ _Williams _- and his clever response is foregone for a simple _later. _

Far from Matthew's intention, 'later' ends up being three weeks later. Three miserable weeks, full of Alfred's teasing at every turn, never letting the thought of fucking his mouth stray far from the forefront of Matt's mind. Now, thankfully, both of their schedules are wide open. Matthew plans to make good use of the time off.

He's shoulder-deep in his fridge when he hears the familiar jingle of keys, signalling Al's arrival. Putting the thought of dinner aside, Matthew instead grabs two beers, pops the caps, and heads towards the front of his home. Al has already shrugged off his bomber jacket and settled on the couch in those short moments; Matt plops down beside him easily, cross-legged.

"You're early, eh?" Matt says, offering up one of the beers in his grasp.

With a sheepish smile, Alfred takes the beer from him. "I kinda rushed," he replies, tilting the bottle up to take a swig.

Matthew takes a small sip of his own beer, watching Al's throat bob over several swallows. His gaze flickers back up to meet Alfred's and he finds the blonde watching him back, mouth curved in a smile around the rim of his bottle. Pulling it away, Alfred says, smile now openly suggestive, "Missed me?"

Matt lets out a snorting laugh, his curl bouncing. "As if you need the ego boost. Besides," he pauses to take another sip, "you're the one who just said he rushed here."

"Yeah, but," Alfred drains the rest of his beer and sets the bottle aside. Remnants of the dark lager cling to his lips; watching Matthew over the rim of Texas, Al licks it away, dragging his piercing over his upper lip. He sucks in his bottom lip and grins, because Matt's not paying attention to anything but the movements of his mouth, his beer bottle frozen millimeters away from his mouth. Shifting onto his knees, he leans in close to Matthew, pressing his hand to the Canadian's crotch. Matt's cock twitches under his palm. "You're hard."

Alfred lets his lips stay parted after his words. Matthew exhales, blinking for the first time in what feels like forever and calmly sets his half-empty beer aside. Less calmly, he tugs on the collar of Alfred's shirt and closes the distance between them, sealing their lips together. Al makes a noise, somewhere between delight and arousal, and Matthew spreads his legs in response, letting Al press up flush against him. He opens up wider when Matt presses one thumb to the edge of his mouth, the other gliding across the gap of exposed skin between the hem of his shirt and his pants.

Matt traces the points of Al's star piercing, memorizes the press and drag of it across his tongue. He kisses Alfred until he's breathless, until the blonde is tangling his fingers into his hair, messing up his curls, rubbing up against him and as hard and thick as he is. Pulling back so that they are nose to nose, glasses bumping, Matt is pleased to learn that Al looks as flushed and dazed as he feels.

He slides the pad of his thumb over the pink staining Al's cheek. "That was for teasing me so much," Matthew says mildly, his breath ghosting over Alfred's lips.

"Totally worth it," Al shoots back, grinning. He pokes Matt's lips with the tip of his tongue, playfully wiggling against him. Matt takes it as an invitation to pull the blonde into another sucking kiss, hot and wet, tingling everywhere Alfred's piercing scrapes.

Matthew realizes kissing Alfred like he's half-starved is more of a reward for teasing than a punishment, but it all leads to the same place anyway, with Al's fingers sliding down Matt's sides as he murmurs _I wanna suck you off _between kisses. It's where they've been headed for the past three and a half weeks and just the thought has Matthew groaning an enthusiastic _yes_ into Alfred's mouth.

Alfred breaks away first this time, though Matthew doesn't make it easy, chasing down one more kiss before the American slips off the couch. Matt can see the imprint of Al's cock straining against his pants when he stands, patting down his pockets before pulling out a small clear, plastic container.

Hands on his belt buckle, Matt says, "I thought you were gonna-"

"Mmm, yeah, just gimme a sec," Al interrupts, winking. He turns away and Matthew watches him suspiciously, tugging his own jeans down and off his hips in the interim.

He's settled on the couch, legs splayed wide, when Alfred faces him again sans Texas, pants undone and riding low on his hips.

"I've been waiting to try this out," Al says, kneeling on the floor to fit himself into the space between Canada's legs. Smoothing his palms over Matt's bare thighs, he sticks his tongue out once more. "See?"

Matt's dick throbs even as an unexpected giggle escapes him. Al has swapped out his (rather pretty) white star for ridiculous rubber oval, speckled red, white, and blue. It's nearly twice the size of the other barbell.

"You laugh now," Matthew hears Alfred say playfully and he can't help but giggle again. He's unprepared for the sudden soft wetness of America's tongue dragging up his cock, offset by the strange, _good_, sensation of his prickly piercing and Matthew's laugh tapers off into a shaky moan.

His hands go down to grip Alfred's shoulders, mouth open and eyes glued to the slow wiggle, slip, and slide of the blonde's tongue. Al takes his time, blonde lashes lowered as he maps every inch of Matthew's cock, rolling his piercing gently across thick veins. Matt shudders, fingers drifting to thread into Alfred's hair and rub the base of his neck.

Alfred glances up to him and smiles. Matt's caught by that sky blue gaze, held steady by it as the blonde fits his mouth over the head of his dick, pushing down as far as he can.

"_Oh_," Matthew gasps out, closing his eyes, trying his best not to snap his hips and suddenly choke his brother.

That notion crumbles to dust quickly; Alfred flicks his tongue against the underside of Matt's cock, his piercing abruptly buzzing against it. Matthew makes a desperate noise and thrusts, hitting the back of Al's throat before he can stop himself. Alfred moans, taking it easy, in stride, opening his mouth and stretching his vibrating tongue so Matt can roll his hips again, push a little deeper.

"Oh, fuck, Al, you, this-" Matthew babbles, head thrown back, both hands now knotted up in Al's hair. Trembling, he curls his toes, trying to hold back the mounting pleasure-pressure building in his groin. He's hot, sensitive, an undercurrent of desire pulsing under his skin. He can't open eyes, can't look; he'll go off like a rocket if he does, but he wants to know so Matt says, shaky, breathless, "Are you touching yourself? Please tell me you're touching yourself, because I'm gonna soon and-"

Matthew is cut off by Alfred's groan, bubbling up deep from his belly, and the bob of his head, affirmation. The image is vivid behind his eyes, America on his knees, legs spread, fisting his cock to the rhythm of Canada fucking his mouth, blushing red and splotchy all the way down to his thighs. It's enough to send Matt over the edge, shake him apart as Alfred's throat works around his cock, swallowing down every drop of him greedily as the vibration fades away.

A few moments later, when he has the wherewithal to, Matt pulls Al up into his lap and kisses him messily, licking the taste of himself out of the American's mouth. Alfred melts against him, humming happily and, when they part, his voice is hoarse and laced with satisfaction as he says, "That was even hotter than I thought it'd be."

"Yeah," Matthew agrees airily, his whole body still buzzing faintly.

Later, when Alfred swaps his piercing out again and shows Matthew that it's fashioned into red maple leaf, Matthew kisses him so fast their glasses collide.

"You're going to kill me," he says, reading the shape of his national emblem right off Alfred's tongue.

America just smiles, kiss-swollen lips gently brushing kiss-swollen lips. "Nah."


End file.
